Tales from the Tailgate: from the Fan who's seen them all

by Stephen J. Koreivo

Overview

Today, one hundred-twenty NCAA schools compete in the Football Bowl Subdivision (FBS). Over the past 30 years, one fan made the effort to attend a game played by every team at least once. He did it, and he has two kids and has been married to the same woman for 22 years! Here is his fun story every college football fan will enjoy reading!

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781463416867
Publisher:	AuthorHouse
Publication date:	07/12/2011
Pages:	228
Product dimensions:	5.90(w) x 8.90(h) x 0.50(d)

Read an Excerpt

Tales from the Tailgate

From the Fan who's seen 'em all!

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By Stephen J. Koreivo

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2011 Stephen J. Koreivo
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4634-1686-7

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Chapter One

America's Teams (1) Army vs. (2) Navy December 2, 1972

Philadelphia - My introduction to this classic rivalry and to "big-time" college football started on a low, wooden, end zone bleacher seat on an unseasonably warm December afternoon at John F. Kennedy Stadium in Philadelphia. My father said he "wrangled" four tickets somehow to the sellout between 5-4 Army and 4-6 Navy. We drove three hours to Philly from north Jersey with extra warm clothes and bundles of blankets. We watched caped, gray-clad Cadets and Midshipmen in woolen, navy blue overcoats march along the cinder track and onto the plush, green field before us as we shed layers of jackets and sweatshirts on that unbearably hot, December Saturday. The Corps of Cadets formed their companies on the playing field to cheer for both teams, led in unison by semaphore from the upper deck of the host venue. From signals above, the Corps launched into traditional pre-game cheers, but half-heartedly for the opposition. Army cadets saluted their greatest foe with a muffled, nonchalant cheer of "N-A-V-Y. Go Navy! Fight!" Then on the next semaphore command, they performed a sharp, military about-face to their side of the stadium to the rousing applause and cheers of the Army faithful. The Corps took on new life. Out came their booming cadence brazen and bold for their own: "A-R-M-Y! Gooooo ARMY! BEAT NAVY!" Throngs for Army stood and cheered wildly. The Corps marched to the empty seats awaiting them, but the parade soon broke off into a run as cadets of all classes looked to meet up with fellow classmates in the stands. Plebes are responsible for the spirit on game day.

The Mids' march-on follows, and it's evident—"nobody does march on a ship"! And if you listened closely, after the Mids raise their hats to their alternative cheer of "BEAT ARMY!", their hands drop hats back on to their heads before they align their thumbs along seams of their trousers with the muffled order from within the Brigade of, "Drop! Trou!" - inside humor from the Mids who speak in code laced with acronyms and abbreviations.

All the traditions of college football and more unfolded before us that day. Miniature tanks and ships fired bursts of blanks. Army Mules and the Navy Goats were handled along the sidelines. Cheerleaders fired up spirit on both sides. The Army band and Navy Drum Corps played their respective fight songs as Cadets and Mids sang along. They volleyed cheers at one another. The 3rd Infantry Old Guard Fife and Drum Corps from The Capitol presented the Colors as part of the pre-game festivities that year.

As for my first game action, Navy took a 12-0 lead in the first quarter, but Army overcame the deficit in the third as running back Bob Hines raced 43 yards for a touchdown, and a blocked field goal by Army's Tim Pfister resulted in an 84-yard touchdown return by Scott Beatty. A 21-yard run by Bruce Simpson and a field goal by Jim Barclay put the finishing touches on Army's 23-15 win in the 73rd edition of college football's greatest rivalry. The spirit and excitement witnessed on television turned out to be more intense and more colorful in person than I had envisioned.

Extrapoints: In 1974, I became a member of the Brigade of Midshipmen. Thanks to my underwhelming skills in math and science, I stayed for only two years. I did make the Lightweight football team, now known as Sprint Football. However, since my weight hovered seven pounds over the limit at 165, I could only practice.

I continued to attend Navy football games over the years whether at the Meadowlands, in "Crabtown" (Annapolis), versus Army in Philly, or on the road somewhere to see the Mids play. Every college football fan should experience an Army game at West Point or a Navy game in Annapolis at least once.

I've seen both Army and Navy each play in over 40 games against various teams since, some more eye-opening and thrilling ( like the 28-24 Army win over Navy in 1996 that landed both teams in much-deserved bowl games) since that first meeting in 1972. It turned out that the first two eventual "steps" on my long road to achieve my eventual goal started with the greatest of all traditional rivalries in college football! No other can top it.

Turncoat and Burnout (3) Notre Dame vs. Navy November 2, 1974

Philadelphia – I grew up as a Notre Dame fan. On New Years Eve 1973, I had run out of my family's house into freezing weather in just a t-shirt, shorts, and socks to celebrate the Irish's 24-23 win over Alabama in the Sugar Bowl to win the 1973 National Championship!

The 1966 ND-Michigan State game was a key moment in my early life. I made a mental note before the "game of the century" that I was never going to forget that day. My father drove us to my grandparent's home thirty miles away so we could watch the game in living color. I read every Notre Dame book I could get my hands on, so I was steeped into the history and tradition of Fighting Irish football. I was obsessed with the notion of playing football for Notre Dame some day. At 5'9", 165 lbs after high school graduation, however, I wasn't even "Rudy" Ruediger. Neither big nor fast enough, I wanted to play ball somewhere, and a couple of small schools showed interest, but when an offer came through, though not for football, I opted for the U.S. Naval Academy as my path to the future. I actually looked Navy Head Coach George Welsh right in the eye one day after some Plebe Summer Pep rally and told him I wanted to play football for Navy. He just stared back.

November 2, 1974, became my personal day of infamy as I did something I never dreamed I would or could ever do. Navy "hosted" Notre Dame that year at Veterans Stadium in Philly. Finally, after all those years as a die-hard Notre Dame fan, I was going to get to see my Irish play! "Cheer, cheer for old Notre Dame ..." I was about to see the defending national champs for whom I'd rooted so hard on that previous New Year's Eve live and in-person. Only this time, for the first time ironically, I couldn't claim them as my team. Since I was now a Midshipman, the Irish were the dreaded opposition. My new team, Navy, had to beat them. There would be no cheers "for old Notre Dame" from me for the first time ever. The 6-1 Irish came in as 30-point favorites. We were just 2-5. The Brigade was pumped up for this one, having fallen to the Irish during the eleven long years since Heisman winner Roger Staubach last played for Navy.

In Second Company, we approached the portal leading on to the Vet Stadium turf for the pre-game march-on. ND's male cheerleaders held their female counterparts over the entrance to show 4,000 Navy guys, especially about 1,200 female-deprived Plebes, what we were missing. Many jumped for a "touch" even though the targets were far beyond leaping capabilities. After march-on, we literally climbed the outfield wall at the Vet into our designated seats. Many boosted fellow classmates to get over the railing. One First classman, affectionately known as "Squatty" to his classmates, stepped up on a faucet head to climb the wall, but his weight tore the spigot off and spray burst out from the broken pipe sending a few guys running to avoid sitting in saturated Service Dress Blues during the game.

As one, four thousand raucous Midshipman — including one former, recent, die-hard Fighting Irish fan — were pumped up for today's game. Despite the daunting task ahead, we fed off a mutual appetite for the long- awaited win. We were caught up in it. Despite my years of dedication to Notre Dame, I was converted! There was no way I could root for my former favorite team on this particular day. Today, I was Navy all the way. I was a "turncoat" and proud of it—proud to be part of the Brigade. We stood and cheered our team throughout the first half to surprising success.

We forced an Irish fumble early to give ourselves good field position. We went bananas as kicker Steve Dykes nailed a 48-yard field goal in the first period for a 3-0 lead. The defense, led by All-American linebacker Chet Moeller, held the defending national champs in check throughout the first half. They allowed quarterback Tommy Clements only four completions on sixteen attempts, intercepting him twice. We actually held that slim lead through halftime. We Mids remained standing throughout the entire game.

Every big play, especially on defense, sent us into an uproar. We were fired up and going crazy! We went even more bonkers as our teammates on the field took a 6-0 lead over the big boys from South Bend when Dykes converted his second field goal from 37 yards away in the third quarter. Classmate Dave Hines and I embraced and jumped up and down with enthusiasm. Salivating for Blue and Gold victory after eleven years of Irish domination, we began to anticipate the taste of victory—big victory! Mass hysteria, school spirit, and a proud tradition morphed into something bigger than just eleven guys out on the playing field. Low-life Plebes, like me, and high-and-mighty "Firsties" (seniors) jumped and cheered together. This was our Navy team, and we believed in nothing less than victory. Our smaller, undermanned, outclassed 2-5 team was taking it to the vaunted Irish. However, the tide began to turn.

Early in the fourth quarter, Irish defensive end Jim Stock made two big plays on consecutive downs by breaking up a reverse for a loss, and then sacking Navy quarterback Mike Roban back at our three. Punter John Stufflebeem, who had a great day punting for the Mids, booted it to the forty-nine, but Irishman Ron Goodman returned it to our twenty-seven. Five plays later, Notre Dame finally put the ball into the end zone on a low, five-yard pass from Clements to sliding tight end Pete Demmerle in back of the end zone. The Irish "Subway Alum" finally had their chance to cheer, but not as loud as Navy had that day. After they converted the extra point for the 7-6 lead, it was probably more a sigh of relief than a cheer.

Navy still scrapped on the field, and the Brigade still anticipated a comeback, but with 2:12 remaining, ND's freshman defensive back Randy Harrison picked off Mike Roban's pass and returned it forty yards for a touchdown to seal an Irish victory, 14-6. Though discouraged, we were proud of our team. At game's conclusion, we sang "Navy Blue and Gold" with more pride that day than any other time I could remember as a Midshipman. We were dejected, but proud of the effort of the team and of the spirit of the Brigade that day.

Soon after this game, Notre Dame's great, successful football coach, Ara Parseghian, decided to call it a career at South Bend. After many big victories and two national championships, a close call against Navy revealed the enormity of pressure to win at probably the most famous of all college football programs. I was a turncoat. Ara felt burnt-out. It was the end of an era – for both of us.

Extra point: Fast forward: In 2007, as I left Beaver Stadium with my daughter Alex after Penn State defeated that traditional Irish nemesis, Purdue, I heard the last two plays of triple overtime between Notre Dame and Navy on Westwood One Radio. An interference call went against the Mids on Notre Dame's two-point conversion. On the ensuing conversion attempt, Navy stuffed the Irish run. That day in South Bend, Navy had finally beaten the Irish, 46-44. After 43 straight losses, the streak finally ended. I cheered!

I still like to see the Irish win, and I root for them against many other foes, but over the years, the Nittany Lions and the Mids, despite my exodus from Navy after two years, remain my two favorite football teams. When Navy finally ended that streak against the Irish, I thought back to that November day in 1974. In October 2010 after personally witnessing seven losses to Notre Dame, I watched a dominant Navy team sink the Irish myself, 35-17. Go Navy!

Culture Shock! (4) Georgia at (5) Auburn November 18, 1978

Auburn, Alabama - "Oneonta?" A short, dark-haired guy curled his lip and scrunched up his nose with a wide grin while squinting at the letters on my t-shirt during a workout out at the Lakeland Hills YMCA during the summer of 1978.

"Huh? What are you talking about?" I replied. Charles Murren III pointed to the name of my current college on my bright, yellow t-shirt. How he got "Oneonta" out of J-U-N-I-A-T-A, I don't know, but it began the start of a long friendship. At least he didn't pronounce it "Juanita" as did many others at first glance of the name.

That day in the gym, Charlie was home on summer vacation from Auburn University. Like many north Jersey kids, unless you went to local Montclair State, William Paterson, or Seton Hall, you most likely went out of state in pursuit of higher education. "One thing you can give George Wallace credit for," he once told me, "is that he kept tuitions affordable in Alabama."

After years of watching Interstate 287 being built behind his home in Montville, NJ, Charlie studied for his degree in Civil Engineering at Auburn. During that summer, we talked about school, women, the future, football, working out, and other important stuff, like my future trip to Auburn for a football weekend. The perfect opportunity presented itself on the weekend before Thanksgiving, 1978. Not only would the Georgia Bulldogs, Auburn's longest, traditional SEC rival be visiting "the Plains", but Juniata was one of the rare schools organized on a trimester schedule. My semester break would begin the weekend before Thanksgiving and last through the holiday. To get to Auburn, I bought a cheap airline ticket for my first-ever flight to Columbus, Georgia. Al Di Vite, one of our cohorts from back in Boonton, NJ would fly down as well.

Charlie had the whole Auburn cultural experience planned for us. We bought beer at a local gas station - couldn't do that in Jersey or Pennsylvania. We got to ride on real construction equipment at night on a real highway under construction. I assumed this was a pre-requisite for Civil Engineering at Auburn. I figured that's why Charlie had keys. We ate dinner at the Barbeque House on Main Street in Auburn where the cooks rammed long, metal stakes through two whole chickens at a time in a big, flame-fired, brick oven. They were served up on paper plates with handfuls of sliced, dill pickles and six pieces of white bread. The combination not only tasted good, it coated our stomachs for the ensuing beer-fest, too! The next day, we glimpsed football traditions up close and personal taking a tour of the training facilities where we watched the AU Tigers getting taped before Friday's practice. Charlie pointed out sophomore running back James Brooks. He looked small for a guy I envisioned as an SEC running back, but eventually the speed of an SEC running back once he stepped on to the playing field explained everything.

Friday night, we ventured out to Toomer's Crossing for the traditional pep rally with the band and cheerleaders where trees filled up with streams of toilet paper. The cheerleaders were nice-looking for sure. I didn't see many like them at Navy or Juniata. At some house party on campus, we caught up with Charlie's Auburn pals who tried to intimidate by calling me a Yankee! I replied. "Let's go Mets!" That confused them. The Braves hadn't really caught on yet down South. Major League baseball hadn't quite reached central Alabama. This was SEC football country! We had a great time. We stopped by the War Eagle Supper Club, this great down-home, beat-up bar with bare plywood walls in the middle of the Plain where the Bellamy Brothers of "Let Your Love Flow" fame were appearing. Big-name band in a low-down place—ya gotta love it. Yes, sir. Charlie showed Al and me a great time during that first visit to "the loveliest village on the Plains."

(Continues...)

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Excerpted from Tales from the Tailgate by Stephen J. Koreivo Copyright © 2011 by Stephen J. Koreivo. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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